


Except Thou Repent

by Jayne L (JayneL)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-20
Updated: 2009-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayneL/pseuds/Jayne%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-'Good God, Y'All'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Except Thou Repent

The boardwalk is empty, all the booths closed, metal gates shut tight with heavy padlocks. Brisk November air has kept people away from the beach; it stretches into the distance, a crooked, hummocked no-man's-land of damp sand and scattered garbage.

Castiel stands at the edge of the walk, forearms braced on the wooden railing, and watches waves roll sullenly to shore under the evening's slate-grey sky. The leather tie of Dean's amulet dangles from his closed fist; the points and curves of the amulet itself dig into the flesh of his palm, warm only with the heat of his own skin.

He feels Anna's arrival like a change in the atmosphere. When he turns, she's standing in front of a nearby shop, keeping a safe distance: her body is tense, her wary eyes wide.

He can't fault her caution at all. "How did you escape?"

Her brow arches. She replies, "How did you survive?" and he nods, granting what she didn't say. Her gaze flickers over him; he remains still, subjecting himself to her attention. "They told me what they did to you. They thought it would hurt me."

"Did it?"

"Yes." She says it softly, but her eyes glint when they meet his, and when she continues, her voice is steel: "It was one of the many wounds I received in captivity."

"I had orders." The words are automatic; he watches their effect on her, the way she straightens, the way her chin tilts up and her lips press together. The way she closes herself to him even more, her physical form both shield and weapon. "They were wrong." And then, sincerely: "I'm sorry."

His regret has another effect: she blinks, and stares, and--after a long, searching moment--softens, just a little. The relief he feels is startling. "You--" she begins, then stops, one corner of her mouth curving upward in private amusement.

He waits. When she continues simply to look at him, half-smiling and silent, his eyes narrow. "What?"

The breeze blows a lock of hair across her face; she reaches up and smooths it back behind her ear, a bright thread of colour between her long, pale fingers. She doesn't look away from him, not for a moment. "I was going to say you've changed," she says finally, frankly, "but you haven't. You've become."

She says it as a statement of fact, plain and honest and self-explanatory. He's reminded of their time in the garrison, when she would speak and he would accept and there was never any question between order and action, will and obedience.

That time is very long ago, now. "What have I become?"

Her smile fades. Strangely, her seriousness softens her even more. "Yourself."

She sounds absolutely certain. He drops his gaze to the weathered boards under her feet, unable to meet her eyes; when he speaks, it's through the sudden, tight roughness in his throat. "I'm not sure I know who that is."

"You don't have to be sure." Her feet move; he looks up again as she approaches, slowly, her expression gentle. Forgiving. "You just have to *be*. The way God intended."

She doesn't stop until she's right in front of him, close enough that the warm cloud of her breath in the cold air mixes with his. The railing is solid against the small of his back, chilly pressure through Jimmy Novak's coat and suit and shirt.

When she reaches up and slides her palm against his cheek, he murmurs, "Anael..."

"You feel it, right?" She looks up at him, fervent. This close, he can breathe in her scent, Anna Milton's soap and perfume and skin, just as they were at the moment her grace was restored. "I did, when I remembered who I was. We're both ourselves now, Castiel. Both of us."

He leans involuntarily into her touch, his eyes falling closed. When her lips press to his, it's akin to benediction; when they part, he breathes, "_Anna_," and kisses her again, deeply, his free hand slipping around her waist to flatten on her back and pull her close.

Eventually, her fingers work their way between his. The heat of her skin warms the amulet between their palms until Castiel thinks they'll both be burned.

 

End.


End file.
